


Into Darkness, Unafraid

by SerenityFalconNormandy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: But oh you wait, Dragon Age Reddit Art/Fic exchange, F/F, F/M, Fairly tame right now, Four potential Inquisitors, Gen, I didn't expect this to become a monster fic, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityFalconNormandy/pseuds/SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written for the Dragon Age Reddit Art/Fic exchange.My assigned Redditor's request:If fanfic, the four characters meeting before the conclave, surviving, and joining the inquisition. story could involve time skips to different parts of the game (eg Adamant, Halamshiral, Well of Sorrows.) just imagine that they are one party, just like in game.Arialva Lavellan, Ellana Lavellan, Hera Adaar, and Aurelia Trevelyan all survive the Conclave. Now, with Arialva as the Herald of Andraste, and the other three survivors called her Guardians by the faithful, they must do what they can to seal the Breach, find those responsible, and most important of all, survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Conclave**

 

Arialva Lavellan had a bad feeling. It sat in her gut as she slipped through the shadows in the corridor where she’d spotted another elf sneaking into the Conclave. The way the other elf had moved was familiar, the pattern of steps and whisper of magic left behind called back to her younger days. _Where are you, intruder?_

 

She lifted a slender finger to her lips, signaling the Vashoth mercenary and human warrior that had been assigned to patrol duty with her for silence. Hera Adaar nodded once, the caps on her horns flashing with the light of the single torch at the end of the corridor, and she hefted her greatsword. The imposing Vashoth woman could swing the giant sword like Arialva could a rapier. Aurelia Trevelyan dipped her head, more of an acknowledgement than an actual nod, and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

 

As Arialva slid forward silently, she could hear the rumble of a muffled voice. She immediately straightened in shock when she heard Divine Justinia call for help. What was the Divine doing down here, in the bowels of the Temple? Aurelia made a distressed noise, and all of them froze when they heard a woman with a Marcher accent shout, “What’s going on here?”

 

_I know that voice!_ **_Ellana._ ** The elven rogue dashed forward, Hera and Aurelia hot on her heels. They burst through the doorway as the Divine lashed out and struck the… _thing_ … that was holding an odd-looking orb that flickered with green fire. Hera snarled and plowed into the... _why in the Maker’s name were WARDENS doing this to the Divine?_ The human woman hesitated when she saw the armor, making another distressed noise, then charged forward.

 

Arialva swung her bow up and fired two arrows at the red-spiked hulk who was charging after the orb that bounced across the floor. The other elf was darting through the Wardens and two mercenaries in pursuit as well. It landed at Arialva’s feet, and she scooped it up, Ellana’s fingers slipping off the swirled ridges that covered the surface as it rose out of her reach. Indescribable pain shot through Arialva as the green flames seemed to burrow into her palm and weld the orb to her hand. The monster charged at her with a snarl, and both Hera and Aurelia sprang forward from amongst the downed Wardens to block him. The energy built up around Arialva, and Ellana tried to claw the orb free, yelling over the loud roar that vibrated out of it, “What did you do?”

 

She couldn’t speak, the pain was blinding her to everything else. Suddenly the orb pulsed, and Arialva, Hera, Aurelia, and Ellana screamed as they were sucked into the blinding light that exploded inwards.

 

* * *

 

**Becoming a Guardian**

Ellana felt the resentment simmering under her skin. The _shems_ were calling Arialva the Herald of Andraste, and the three who had survived the Conclave explosion the Guardians of the Herald. She felt... deprived, like this had been meant for her.

Through the heavy door, she could hear the women, Cassandra and Leliana, arguing with the awful man they’d met on the way to seal the Breach. Arialva was snapping at him, too. It seemed he wanted the woman who had abandoned the Creators for their Maker clapped in chains. Ellana bristled. There was a tear in the sky and that _thing_ in Arialva’s hand was the only way to close it up. Stupid, foolish _shemlen._ Playing like she was picking at something on her sleeve, she used magic to scan the other two women who had fallen out of the Fade. The Vashoth turned and narrowed her eyes at the brush of magic against her skin. Hera bit out out one word, “No.”

 

Ellana pulled back, the Qunari woman obviously didn’t like magic, and was sensitive enough to feel its touch. She turned to Aurelia, who was meditating while standing at attention. There were some scars, with odd energies whisping out of them. Slipping further into the Fade, Ellana stifled a gasp as she saw the energy field around the human woman had what looked like minute veins of sluggish, black-red blood. Her life-force shone and winked like a star, but the veins were slowly pulsing further and spreading. In her estimation, Ellana predicted that it would consume Aurelia within a year, a year and a half if she was lucky.

 

Listening to the arguing through the door, it would take far longer to close the Breach and set things to rights than that. _Wait… the other mage, Solas_ . The one they had met with the _shemlen_ Seeker. He might know something. Perking up, she set a hand on Aurelia’s arm, “I am going to speak to the apostate. Solas, I think his name is. If we are to help with sealing the Breach, I must know more about the mark on Arialva’s hand.”

 

The brunette nodded and returned to her meditations. Slipping out of the Chantry, Ellana crossed snow-covered paths to approach the mage’s cabin. Arialva had sneered at the elf and dismissed him, but there was something about him that drew Ellana. She wanted, no, needed to know him. Skipping lightly up stone steps, she spotted the oddly intriguing elf. Lambswool sweater and leggings, bare toes like the Dalish, a wolf’s jawbone as his only adornment. Long fingers played with the jawbone as he observed the tear in the Veil that painted the sky sickly green. Ellana tossed her black hair over her shoulder, and approached him with a friendly smile. Piercing blue-gray eyes turned to her, and she was lost.

* * *

 

**Among the Lions**

 

Cassandra was quiet as she lead their party out of Val Royeaux. The Jenny they’d recruited had gone ahead, or at least that’s what Arialva thought she was doing. Sera’s thickly accented, rapid fire and garbled trade tongue was hard to understand at times. The Lord Seeker had abandoned the city after _striking_ a Revered Mother. After meeting the leader of the rebels, Fiona, Ellana was pushing to speak to the mages for help with the Breach.

 

She was of the opinion that the Lord Seeker’s odd behavior warranted more investigations first, because nullifying and suppressing the Breach sounded safer than pouring more magic into it. Hera was grumbling over the decision to speak to the Imperial Enchanter, Vivienne, while Aurelia was quietly concerned about the rather frenetic elven Red Jenny that had been recruited. Arialva and Aurelia agreed that if Sera could be convinced to direct that energy in a more focused way, she and the other Jennies would be a great asset to the Inquisition. Elves without _vallaslin_ were silent, all-seeing, and interchangeable fonts of information that could be fed to Sister Leliana. The Imperial Enchanter was rumored to be a Chantry Loyalist, so Arialva hoped that she could be a voice of reason and a foil to Ellana’s tendencies to mage freedom.

 

The other elf, still bearing the name Lavellan in truth, had been calm and level-headed thus far, talking to The Bald One every chance she had while they were in Haven. Her discussions with him _had_ helped with the weak spell Aurelia had on the way to Orlais, and even Hera had to admit Ellana patching them up with magic was far superior to depending on bandages, potions, and time.

 

Once they got back to Haven, Arialva planned on speaking to Josephine about what might be the most politically expedient measure to take in regards to the Lord Seeker. She felt warmth flood her chest at the thought of the Antivan ambassador. During the first meeting with her, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off Josephine. Arialva maybe sort of hadn’t caught all of what her other advisors were saying. There was hope, maybe, that Josephine would return her interest.

* * *

 

**Companions**

 

“If there’s a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands that we can ask about this, we should, Arialva!” Aurelia didn’t often raise her voice or speak so passionately, but for this, she would. “If we can get even one to help us, it would benefit the Inquisition.”

 

“I’m not interested in the Grey Warden, Aurelia, I’m sorry. They’ve all gone missing but this one? Something’s off.” Arialva was poring over the maps of the Storm Coast, where they were going to speak to the Bull’s Chargers mercenaries. “I can’t spare anyone to go look for this Blackwall, but if you really feel that strongly, maybe you should look for him.”

 

Aurelia pressed her lips together, and clipped out, “I will speak to Commander Cullen.”

 

Arialva nodded, then lit up when Josephine entered the war room, attention completely and totally on the ambassador. Restraining herself from tossing her hands up in frustration, Aurelia exited into the Chantry proper. The walk through Haven gave her time to calm down and compose herself. _Moderate in temper, bold in deed_. The guards at the gate pushed the large doors open, and she strode to the training grounds, searching for the Commander amongst the women and men going through their sword forms.

 

Spotting the blonde curls and bear-fur ruff that distinguished him from all the other soldiers, Aurelia approached and sketched a small bow, “Commander Cullen, I have a request.”

 

“Guardian Trevelyan. How may I help you?” He nodded to her while keeping his eyes glued on a pair of obviously newer recruits, waving their swords at each other more than actually going through training forms. “The Herald will be departing for the Storm Coast to see about those mercenaries that approached us. I feel we should also speak to the Warden we’ve heard about, Blackwall, but she says she cannot spare anyone. I would like to go myself and investigate.”

 

Lion eyes turned to Aurelia, and her heart sank before the words even left his lips. “I’m sorry, Guardian, but the Inquisition doesn’t have the money or resources to outfit two expeditions to such disparate places right now. If the Herald isn’t going to the Hinterlands, I simply don’t have the forces to spare to properly protect you.”

 

Her hand shot out and grasped at his elbow, voice firm. “Please, Commander. I was in Ferelden during the Blight. Denerim, being schooled. The Hero saved me. If I can do something to help figure out what’s going on with the Wardens, I _must_. I don’t need a whole retinue, just a few men. Please.”

 

His eyes went soft, and he placed a his hand over hers. “I understand, Guardian Trevelyan. Warden Ineyla saved me as well… though... I was not quite appreciative of it at the time. As I said, we simply don’t have the resources for more than one party to go out at a time, and sending you out with anything smaller than a proper retinue disrespects your station as a noble from Ostwick, and as a Guardian of the Herald. Both Sister Leliana and Lady Montilyet would have a conniption, despite the Sister’s own eagerness to find the Wardens.”

 

Aurelia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She gave Cullen another bow, and then pivoted and started the long walk back to the Chantry, hopes shattered.

* * *

 

**Into the Storm**

 

_A Qunari! A_ real _Qunari! And a Ben-Hasserath!_ Hera smiled at the man, Iron Bull he called himself, as she stood at Arialva’s shoulder and listened to them talk. She had faint memories of her parents, true Tal-Vashoth, though she supposed she had been old enough when they took her and ran to count as one. She still remembered through the fog of childhood memory the sense of purpose that had filled her young self, though she was mindful to stay in the present after being taken.

 

This one could be her path back to the Qun. Back to where mages were kept in the proper place, and everyone knew their place. He kept smiling at her over Arialva’s head, even doing what she believed was the equivalent of a wink with his one good eye. She smirked, then raked an eye over the rest of the Chargers. It didn’t appear that any viddathari were among the group, which made the corners of Hera’s mouth pull down.

 

Without a strong connection to the Qun, who would remind him of it? He was acting more Tal-Vashoth than Ben-Hasserath right now, flirting and joking. Hera decided that should the opportunity present itself, she would remind him of his duty to the Qun, not the _bas_ mercenaries. And when this was all over, she would ask him to take her to Seheron and re-join the Qun. The thrill of finally being able to return to her purpose, her place that had been taken so long ago, sent a shiver of delight up her spine. The one bit of the Qun that her young mind had held onto floated to the surface: _Victory is in the Qun._

 

With the Qunari’s help, she was confident that Arialva would close the Breach. Then, the tide would cover the world.

* * *

 

**Champions**

 

Incandescent with rage, Arialva strode into the main hall of Therinfal Redoubt. Templars were meant to protect the faithful and the mages from demons, not join them! And to have given half the order Red Lyrium! It took every ounce of self-control she had not to snap at Lord Abernache when he smarmed at her. Thank the Maker for Josephine and her diplomatic skills, or she might be stuck dealing with him more herself. Taking a deep breath, she addressed Ser Barris.

 

“I was sent to you by Andraste.” There were several surprised looks from the remaining Templars as they took in June’s vallaslin on her face, and Mythal’s on Ellana’s while Arialva spoke. Shaking off the shock, Ser Barris replied, pleading their case and ending with, “But the order is leaderless, gutted by betrayal. We must rebuild it.”

 

Looking at the Breach roiling in the sky, Arialva bit out, “There is no time. The old order is too broken to stand. Become knights under the Inquisition. Serve us, stop the Breach, and begin again without a stain on your honor. That is our offer.”

 

Ellana looked surprised, but her lips were still pressed in deep resentment of getting the Templars’ help instead of the mages. Arialva still remembered the old Templar raids on the clan, she wasn’t _blind_ to the order’s faults, but she trusted them far more than the disparate and desperate rebels.

 

Ser Barris strode forward, booming out, “If it is the only way, Templars, will we serve the Inquisition to atone for our failures?”

 

The Templars knelt before their party, and Ser Barris turned. “So be it. The order… will disband, and take up the Inquisition’s banner.”

 

He began going through a list of what they would need, and Arialva nodded, committing them to memory for Josephine and Cullen. She imagined Cullen wouldn’t be very happy about the order disbanding, but it would ensure that the mages under the Inquisition’s banner were properly supervised. And that the demon… _spirit… whatever he was_ , Cole, couldn’t possess anyone. She appreciated him, even liked him, but it was still better to be safe. Hera was frowning, her distrust of magic so strong that her disapproval of the order dissolving fairly radiated from her. Arialva caught Aurelia’s attention, and the human woman simply inclined her head, acknowledging that it was the best that could be done under such circumstances. Arialva squared her shoulders, and strode out of Therinfal, determined to get the Breach closed as soon as possible.

  



	2. Conclave (Expanded)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Conclave from Chapter 1, expanded and fleshed out.

Arialva Lavellan had a bad feeling. It sat in her gut as she slipped through the shadows in the corridor where she’d spotted another elf sneaking into the Conclave. The way the other elf had moved was familiar, the pattern of steps and whisper of magic left behind called back to her younger days.  _ Where are you, intruder? _

 

The feeling in her gut had led her from the halls above in the Temple down into its bowels, the other two members of her patrol that had listened to her following along. The fourth, a self-righteous Chevalier who had stuck up his nose and refused to ‘play a game of chase the rabbit’ was left behind to likely waste away from boredom, listening to arguing representatives from the rebel mages, the Templar Order, and Chantry sisters who, in the end, were only making the barest effort to moderate it all.

 

She lifted a slender finger to her lips, signaling the Vashoth mercenary and human warrior that had been assigned to the patrol for silence. Hera Adaar nodded once, the caps on her horns flashing with the light of the single torch at the end of the corridor, and she hefted her greatsword. The imposing Vashoth woman could swing the giant sword like Arialva could a rapier. Aurelia Trevelyan dipped her head, more of an acknowledgement than an actual nod, and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. 

 

Arialva slid forward silently, just a shadow in the shadows, a whisper in the breeze she reminded herself. She could hear the rumble of a muffled voice. She immediately straightened in shock when she heard Divine Justinia call for help. What was the Divine doing down here, in the bowels of the Temple? She should have been in her private chambers, praying and seeking the Maker’s guidance for the decision that would end the war between the mages and Templars and bring peace back to the Chantry lands. Aurelia made a distressed noise, and all of them froze when they heard a woman with a Marcher accent shout, “What’s going on here?”

 

_ I know that voice!  _ **_Ellana._ ** The elven rogue dashed forward, pulling the whitewood bow from her back and knocking an arrow, the movement so practiced she didn’t even have to think about it. Skidding around the corner, Hera and Aurelia were hot on her heels. They burst through the doorway as the Divine lashed out and struck the…  _ thing _ … that was holding an odd-looking orb that flickered with green fire. Hera snarled and plowed into the-- _ why in the Maker’s name were WARDENS doing this to the Divine? _ The human woman hesitated when she saw the armor, making another distressed noise, then charged forward, silverite blade flashing and whistling a deadly song as it cut through armor, slicing a griffon rampant in half. 

 

Arialva swung her bow up and fired two arrows at the red-spiked hulk who was charging after the orb that bounced across the floor. The other elf was darting through the Wardens and deftly slid between the two mercenaries in pursuit as well. It landed at Arialva’s feet, and she scooped it up, Ellana’s fingers slipping off the swirled ridges that covered the surface as it rose out of her reach. Indescribable pain shot through Arialva as the green flames seemed to burrow into her palm and weld the orb to her hand. The monster charged at her with a snarl, and both Hera and Aurelia sprang forward from amongst the downed Wardens to block him. The energy built up around Arialva, and Ellana tried to claw the orb free, yelling over the loud roar that vibrated out of it, “What did you do?”

 

A pulse went out, flinging the hulk back. Green flashes slowed it, and Aurelia pressed forward through the whorls of energy flinging out from the orb. Hera hung back, waving her sword at the monster snarling and attempting to fight through the bursts of presumably magical energy.

  
“Whoever you are, stop pawing at that and just help us drag her out of here! We have to tell someone--anyone, really--about what’s going on and stop that thing!’

 

Ellana’s face pinched, “I can’t let go!”

 

The fingers of one hand seemed to stick to the surface, her palm cupping over Arialva’s fingers. Aurelia tried to pry Ellana’s hand off, but thinking her gauntlets were too slick from the blood still coating them, quickly stripped off one and attempted to wedge her fingers in between the black-haired elf’s fingers and the orb. 

 

It was a mistake. As soon as her fingers touched the rippled surface, they too were welded to it, forming an odd pattern over Ellana and Arialva’s hand. Hera was backing away from the slowly advancing monstrosity as it roared, “Defilers!”

 

“Aurelia, Arialva! Let go and run!”

 

“We--can’t!”

 

“What? Just let go!”

 

“We can’t, Hera! We’re stuck!”

 

Arialva punctuated the exchange with an agonized scream.

 

Spinning, Hera brute-forced her way to the three women clustered around the orb. She wielded her sword with no gauntlets to intimidate the others at the Conclave into behaving, to demonstrate her strength and ability to ignore the discomfort of the grip in her palms. Her broad, thick fingered, but not indelicate hand smacked down, intending to tear the orb away, but welded to as well. 

 

She couldn’t speak, the pain was blocking out everything else. Suddenly the orb pulsed, and Arialva, Hera, Aurelia, and Ellana screamed as they were sucked into the blinding light that exploded inwards. 

 

Everyone else in the Temple grounds was reduced to ash or twisted horrors of burnt flesh as the Veil was rent open. A plume of pure, burning, bright Fade torn through the ragged wound by magics not seen since the ancient times roared out, reaching to the tear made manifest in the sky. The roar like thunder echoed across the continents, a birth cry formed of death and chaos. All looked to see what had been wrought on the world.

 

In mute horror, an elven apostate watched from amongst the trees of the Frostbacks as demons poured out. Demons that had once been spirits, unwillingly pulled through like fish caught in the current of a dam break. _Not like this! No!_

 

Shaking off the shattered remains of the windows of Haven's lone tavern, the world weary dwarf looked to the sky and muttered, "Not again." He cocked his odd-looking crossbow, and continued muttering to himself as he pushed through the gawking, wailing crowd towards the Chantry.

 

A Qunari, massive even for his kind, pulled his mace from the pulpy mash that had once been the forehead of a giant. His voice boomed in response to the roar that had echoed out moments before. "Chargers! Clean up and clear out. There's money on the horizon."

 

The Right Hand of the Divine whirled from the Left Hand, both of them staring in mute horror at what was left of the Temple where they would have been had they not been listening to the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall. Covering her mouth with her hands, the Right Hand sank to her knees, a strangled noise escaping her before blossoming into a scream. Tears poured down the cheeks of the Left Hand as her heart steeled.

 

Picking himself up from the snowbank his horse had thrown him into, the only warhorse the fledgling Inquisition-to-be had, the Commander of their forces ruffled through the snow to find his sword and shield. He knew what to do against demons. Amber eyes closed, and his grip tightened on his sword to hide the faint tremble as he reminded himself he _didn't need_  the little box still in the pack attached to the nervous horse's saddle.

 

An Orlesian noble removed his mask in the company of someone other than his family or mistress for the first time since he had donned it before coming to court at sixteen. The Orlesian Court Enchanter noted it mentally while dismissing him and telling him to run along, seeing another grand move in The Game through the sadly no longer magnificent or whole serault glass windows of her estate outside Halamshiral. 

 

Abandoning her noteboard for once, the Antivan ambassador stumbled out of the Chantry after the elven mage who shared her office barged in and grabbed her arm, nigh incoherent with fear. She who could write a single letter a dozen ways depending on the outcome she desired suddenly had no words for the emotions that gripped her as she stared at the sky, painfully aware that this wasn't what she had signed up for. 

 

"This is shite!  Stupid, shite, demon crap!" The Red Jenny skipped across the tiled roofs of Val Royeaux. In a week or two, she'd probably be upset that her haircut had been interrupted, but the other Jenny had also taken off the second the piss-bucket, stupid,  _demon,_ rubbish had shown up in the sky and blown all of their good beer off the balcony of the abandoned manor.

 

A letter crumpled in the Altus's hand. He'd never truly felt any need to go to the south, but between the dreadful thing that had just blown a rather ghastly hole in the sky and the desperate letter from Felix, he didn't have much choice. His work with Alexius had been theoretical and impossible before, but the tremble of the Fade and the Veil told him that the rules had just been changed. Generally, that never worked out for the best.

 

Sliding between dissonant songs, sneaking, slinking, soothing the worst hurts he can find, where they aren't completely lost to him yet. Envy seeks him, hunting, _hurting_ , but the mask must stay in place. Barris is starting to question, and when the Veil cries in pain, Envy has to play the part. Compassion crawls into cracks, waiting and hoping he can help. 

 

A hole opens in the ruins of the temple, and soldiers despairing of finding survivors start reciting the Chant loudly when not one, but four drop from the rift. The figure of a woman reaches out to them, and is gone. One of the four, an elf with the charred remains of a whitewood bow clenched in one hand, has a cracking mark that fluctuates with the tear in the sky nestled in the other palm. The others, another elf, a human, and a Vashoth, have odd green whorls burned onto their fingers. 

 

A Warden kept close to the Temple for specific purpose fell to their knees, then spewed black Blight into the air. Arms and legs twisted, snapping and cracking, and red lyrium shards erupted from their skin. Corypheus rose, manifesting robes from the raw Fade pouring from the wound in the Veil still. 

 

And Thedas trembles.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a month of struggling with migraines, doctor's appointments, and handling my own writing on top of re-writing a ton of this fic and expanding it in the (truly kind of intimidating) Google doc I have it in, here we go! Intention is to get at least a chapter up every two weeks, health and other issues allowing. 
> 
> Lady_Daeyln, whom this was for in the Reddit art/fic exchange, has been the soul of patience and understanding.


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